A Thousand Eyes
by you've-been-sherlocked
Summary: Lestrange: a name feared by most and love by very few. It is the name that holds the mask to my face, but when that mask begins to crack...
1. Chapter 1

_April 1988_

The bathroom span in front of her eyes as three sharp raps on the door distracted her from her catatonic state. She sighed heavily, letting the empty wine glass fall the short distance from her relaxed hand to the tiled floor, before she stood – using the doorframe to help her ascent. Three more short knocks encouraged her to move faster, out of the bathroom and to her front door. She was about to open it when she realised her half dressed state.

"Who is it?" She demanded, frantically scouring the messy floor of her bedsit for something relatively clean to shove on.

"Just open the door, Lestrange." The gravelly voice of her landlord floated through the wood. She huffed, finally spotting a large jumper and some jeans. She hurriedly pulled both items on before going back to the door and unlocking it.

The first thing she noticed as she heaved the thing open was how her legs no longer seemed to know how to hold her up. The second, however, was that her landlord was not alone. As she propped herself up with the doorframe – trying to look casual and not as if she were 1) slightly pissed and 2) rapidly losing blood – her eyes found a man with shoulder-length black hair and pasty looking skin. Ignoring her landlord's demands for rent – it wasn't that she didn't have the money; simply that she hadn't been out in days – she glared at the second man, daring him to speak. Which he did so without hesitation a few seconds later, cutting across the landlord's rant.

"You need to sit down, Callista." He smirked, evidently noting her 'casual' stance, "may I come in?" For a moment her clouded mind stuttered to a stop and her breath caught in her throat; she hadn't heard his silky tones in over a year, but how had he found her?

Before the rational part of her brain could catch up with her she'd slammed the door shut on him. At the quick movement black spots appeared in her vision and she slid down to sit at the bottom of the wall next to the door, her head cradled in her hands. Sitting there she felt a lot better, giving her time to think.

She had been avoiding almost any contact with the wizarding word since she had fled a year and a half earlier, not even getting the newspaper. So how had he been able to reach her? And why, after all this time – when surely even Dumbledore had stopped looking for his missing student – was he so concerned? It had been a long time since anyone had cared so much. But if she knew one thing it was that now he had found her, he wouldn't be turned away that easily.

How right she was.

The door was blasted open suddenly, without warning and really quite loudly.

Severus Snape stepped over the threshold, his dark robes billowing slightly, as always. He turned to face her as she lifted her head from her hands, his dark eyes softening slightly as her caught her venerable position.

She stood shakily, regretting it almost instantly as she stumbled against the wall. She could feel Snape's eyes boring into the top of her head as she gasped for breath, her eyes fixed in the floor. She turned to face the room, in futile hope that if she ignored him he would disappear. It took all her concentration just to put one foot in front of the other, walking towards the kitchen. She stumbled again, but this time she felt a pair of strong hands grasp her elbows, just before her eyes fluttered shut and she was swept into darkness.

"What's happened to you, Callista?" Snape addressed the silent room.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_June 1995_

Callista rubbed at her tired eyes before replacing her glasses and pulling yet another awful third year translation towards her. _Really where did these kids get their brains?_ She reached the last sentence fifteen minutes later, where with an exhausted sigh she drew a small red T. Every year they seemed to get thicker and thicker.

_Try this with a text book next time._ She wrote diligently underneath the grade.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caused her to jump, blotting the sentence and making her curse.

"Marking?" A voice drawled from across the room, Callista smiled tiredly up at Severus Snape. After a moment's pause, in which the dark haired witch pulled another – thankfully the last – parchment towards her, he spoke again. "We should be off soon." Callista inclined her head to show that she'd heard, triumphantly placing an 'O' at the bottom of the parchment. She looked back over to see Severus still stood in the doorway, just looking at her. He grinned as she caught his eye, an unusual occurrence even in the Snape household, and proceeded to take a seat next to her on the worn sofa putting an arm comfortingly around her waist.

He had changed a lot in the years since she'd been a student at Hogwarts – mostly since he had tracked her down and forced her into living under his watchful eye. His hair was not longer a greasy mess down to his shoulders, but cut short and clean, and he no longer wore those ridiculous robes that made him look like an overgrown bat. Instead he usually wore a pair of black slacks with a button down black shirt – not even Callista had been able to dissuade him from the black. Not that she would have anyway.

Callista shuffled the papers into a relatively neat pile before leaning back into Severus' embrace, closing her eyes and removing her glasses. All was quiet for a few moments, the silence only broken by the comforting sound of the couple's breath. Callista was nearly asleep when a sharp pain spreading from her arm jolted her upright, next to her Severus grunted in pain, also clutching his left forearm. Callista grimaced, she herself wasn't a servant of the Dark Lord but having had her mother burn the Dark Mark into her arm at the tender age of six she shared her husband's pain.

The couple stood, Callista almost a foot shorter than Severus without heels, and Severus ran a hand anxiously through his short hair. "I'll be along as soon as I can. You remember the address?" Callista nodded, slightly apprehensive. She took a deep breath, reaching up to brush a light kiss across his lips, her arms around his torso. After a few moments she let go and with a sharp crack Severus disapperated.

Callista frowned at the spot he had previously occupied before sighing again and going up the stairs. She picked out a striking pair of black heels absentmindedly, eyeing her appearance critically in the mirror. Her dark eyes were surrounded by thick black make up, her plump lips covered in a bright red lipstick that contrasted sharply with the darkness of her clothing and paleness of her skin. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection, Minerva McGonagall would definitely not approve of the shortness of the black lace dress.

-x-x-x-x-

Grimmauld Place was just like every other dull London suburb Callista had visited in her twenty-six years, the only thing setting it apart was the size of the buildings. At six stories high and twice the width of any normal town house, they towered above the trees that lined the street. Callista took no notice of this however as she ascended the stone steps that lead up to the concealed front door of number 12, her mind on other things. She rapped on the door with certain assertiveness that she lacked as a teen, grasping the bronze knocker tightly.

A few moments passed before the glossy black door was opened by a grizzled man whose bright blue magical eye stopped whizzing in its socket to rest uncomfortably upon Callista. Mad-eye Moody raised his grey eyebrows upon recognising the witch, letting her slip past him into a dark hallway.

"Lestrange, long time no see." He growled as he led her down the hall; Callista's mouth quirked up at the corners.

"I've grown up, believe it or not." Moody chuckled.

In the years following the imprisonment of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, the teenage Callista had been arrested by the ministry on several occasions. Four counts of possession of illegal substances and twice for thieving, not that either of the latter had been Callista – so she had gotten to know Moody quite well in those years. Luckily as an underage witch she couldn't be sentenced but she had been lectured at by multiple Aurors on account of her parents. Each one cared _so much_ about her, none of them were keen to have another Bellatrix on their hands, but all of them were just waiting for her to turn.

Moody led her down a short flight of steps and through a door into a large, spacious kitchen. The many people that surrounded the scrubbed wooden table in the centre turned to look at her as she entered. She picked out the faces of several of her colleagues as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt – another Auror, before her view was obscured by a mass of pink hair.

"Wocher Cally," The voice of her cousin Dora Tonks tickled her ear, "how're you?" She finally pulled away, letting Callista out of her crushing embrace just as Dumbledore spoke.

"Good to see you, Callista." His blue eyes twinkled down at her through his half moon spectacles, "No Severus?" Callista swallowed, rubbing her left forearm in frustration.

"He was called." She said simply, worry creasing her forehead. She was still being eyed curiously by the majority of the occupants. Feeling their scrutiny she removed her jacket and moved to sit down next to Minerva McGonagall. Just as Callista had predicted the older woman's lips thinned at her choice of clothing. She was sure she was about to say something, but Dumbledore interrupted.

"Now that we're all here, I'd like to introduce someone who is an invaluable professor and will most likely be an invaluable member of the Order. Callista Lestrange."


	2. Chapter 2

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter - if so (or not as the case may be) please don't hesitate to review. I greatly appreciate them and they'll keep up my mood in trying times like these (the dreaded AS exams). As some of you probably know, I'm awful at updating, but I'm going to try really hard to get you at least one chapter every two weeks until the summer comes.

Oh and whilst I'm here: I'm in real need of a Beta - the word on my laptop likes to americanise everything and has really crap grammar... that's my story and I'm sticking to it... don't blame me, blame the laptop...

**Disclaimer: **Being just a little English girl with an overactive imagination, I own only my OC. Everything recognisable belongs the the wonderful J.K Rowling.

* * *

_April 1988_

It felt odd, walking the halls of Hogwarts again. They were filled with Callista's best memories, and worst. At that moment, as she strode towards the dungeons, Callista wouldn't have been surprised to see Bill or Charlie Weasley come hurtling around the corner towards her, bright grins in place below their flaming red hair. Or _those_ guys. Callista shivered as she remembered the day she left Hogwarts for good.

"_Oi, Lestrange!" Callista sighed, attempting to ignore the catcalls; she had enough to worry about without moronic prats getting on her nerves. "Are you def or something? I'm talking to you Lestrange."_

_She couldn't stop herself from glancing up at the boys, noting with a sneer the Gryffindor ties that hung around their necks. Of course they just had to be Gryffindors; Hufflepuffs were scared away with just a glance and Ravenclaws, with common sense, avoided her at all costs. Gryffindors actively sought her out from time to time. It was all a game to them. Who could manage to get a rise of 'the murderers' daughter' without getting seriously hurt._

_This time there were five of them, all seventh years, all broad-shouldered and beefy. The one who had spoken appeared to be their ring-leader; he was the closest to her and easily recognisable as his house's Quidditch captain._

_Callista didn't stop walking, hoping they'd back down when they realised they weren't going to get a reaction. But their heavy footfalls could be heard behind her, and she cursed silently – she really couldn't afford to get into any more trouble this year. A hand reached out and grasped her shoulder painfully; spinning her around, making her bag fall down to the crook of her arm in the process. The guy sneered at her._

"_Look what we have here, lads. The Slytherin bitch has decided to grace us all with her presence." His friends all laughed cruelly and Callista rolled her eyes._

"_Let go of me Marshall." Her voice sounded merely bored with the situation._

"_Or what Lestrange, you'll set mummy and daddy on me?" This gained another round of laughter. Marshall's grip on her arm tightened and he pulled her closer, making her inwardly shudder._

"_No, you'll just have to deal with me." She smirked, bringing a sharp heel down on his foot. Instantly his grip on her loosened and he howled out in pain. Feeling smug Callista shouldered her bag and carried on down the corridor, only to be pushed into the wall a second later._

"_You little bitch!" Marshall gripped her arms tightly, slamming her against the wall. His eyes were narrowed and he breathed heavily into her face. Callista took a couple of deep breaths before slowly edging her wand out of her sleeve. "No you don't." She sighed, closing her eyes as he threw her wand to the floor. It clattered noisily and rolled a few further feet out of reach. "No one to save you here, Lestrange." Marshall smirked evilly. It was true though, the corridor was deserted – almost everyone was still eating lunch in the great hall. Callista had left early hoping to avoid running into anyone. In hindsight it would have been a lot easier to hide in the crowds._

_She gulped as she realised where this was going; one of the boy's hands was creeping up her thigh, the other trapping her arms to her sides. She felt utterly helpless, here she was stuck up against a wall, wandless and with no hope of help from one of her few friends._

"_Now, why don't we see if you're as easy as they all say?" the Gryffindor breathed in her ear. Callista glared silently at him, hating how he had made her feel so vulnerable. But that was all pushed out of her mind as he caught her lips forcefully. All she could think of was getting as far away as she could from him. She struggled for a few helpless moments, managing to free an arm and try to push him away, but to no avail; it only resulted in her being slammed back into the wall, hard. She squeezed her eyes shut wishing that she could just have stayed at dinner… She was suddenly let go, a large crash telling her that her attacker had been flung against the opposite wall. Callista slowly opened her dark eyes. Marshall was crumpled at the bottom of the wall, unmoving. She raised her head to look at the other boys. They were no longer laughing, staring open mouthed between the other two teens. All was silent, before someone could be heard in the distance, walking towards the group, their shoes rapping harshly on the stone floor. Callista let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and leant her head back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. Her head was hurting like hell and she felt drained. Her eyes closed of their own accord as her breathing slowed and the footsteps drew closer, stopping a few feet from her._

"_What has happened here?" She heard a voice drawl in the slow, almost bored tone of Professor Snape. Reluctantly Callista opened her eyes and raised her head. "Miss Lestrange?" Callista was silent, knowing that nothing would be done about the boys. They were Gryffindors, the 'good guys' where as she was just a Sytherin – the daughter of two notorious death eaters no less. In a school such as Hogwarts that really shouldn't matter, but it was a school run by Gryffindors._

_Snape's dark eyes bored into her own for a moment before shifting to the boys, his frown becoming even more pronounced than normal. He surveyed the unconscious student, looking more angry than anything. "You four," he nodded to the standing Gryffindors, his voice dangerously calm, "Take Mr Marshall to the hospital wing." They scrambled to pick their friend off the floor, avoiding Snape's gaze. Once they were out of sight Snape's expression softened slightly as he looked down on Callista – who had closed her eyes again, her back against the wall. "Miss Lestrange." He spoke softly. And she immediately looked up. She sighed heavily, heaving herself onto her knees to pick up her dropped wand before sorting out her spilt books._

_One trembling hand had just reached for the first two text books (A Complete Study of Advanced Runes and a battered copy of Advanced Potion Making, Vol. 5) when they flew from view. She raised her head to see Snape holding her mended (but still worn-looking) leather satchel. Her eyes closed briefly, all she wanted to do now was go to her dorm and sleep – or even better just get away from all this, to the comfortable silence and solitude of the small flat she had bought six months previously. That wouldn't happen now though. Snape would make her talk about this incident, probably before drilling her on the importance of keeping her head down… Just like every other time she'd been involved in any trouble, this one would be no different._

_Callista mulled all this over in her head as she followed Snape down to his office in the dungeons. Part of her was bitter, talking her into thinking that she wouldn't be like this if it weren't for her parents' imprisonment; another carrying on in its usual bored-I-don't-care kind of way. But a small part of herself – the part she normally ignored – was screaming at her to do something about it, that it was her own fault that she'd turned out the way she had. _

_Snape turned to her as she seated herself opposite his desk, dropping her bag on the floor next to her. The darkness of the dungeon felt cooling, soothing for her taut nerves._

"_Miss Lestrange," Snape started, pausing for a moment, "Callista." He didn't seem to know what to say, his face twisted into an uncharacteristic look of worry and distress. "It seems that I owe you an apology." Callista sat up straight at that. This was definitely not what she had been expecting. Snape obviously saw her confusion as he carried on, "Five years ago I promised your father that I'd watch out for you," he sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes, "needless to say, I failed."_

_Callista frowned, standing and moving around the desk towards the Professor. "There was nothing you could have done, Sir. I am who I am because of my actions, no one else's." She placed a hand on his arm, startling him into looking up at her. "In fact I say you've been more than helpful so far this year." She grinned mischievously, an expression that had rarely been seen on her in four long years, and her dark eyes sparkled in the dim light cast by the few candles._

"_I'll make sure they're punished accordingly." Snape suddenly said, feeling rather uncomfortable at his proximity to the beautiful woman next to him. She looked too much like her mother, but unlike Bellatrix this woman could be caring and compassionate, sadly hardly anyone saw it. Yes, on the outside she was prickly and cold, but only because she had to be. She was so different to the naïve little first year he had seen sorted; the imprisonment of her parents had meant that she grew up so much faster than her peers. Too fast. _

"_Don't lie. We both know they won't get half the blame they should." She whispered, massaging her aching temples, "The dear headmaster is all talk about this house unity shit."_

_Against his better judgement Snape stood, wrapping the girl in his arms. She relaxed into him, as she had done every other time; her arms coming to link around his waist._

"_I'm just so sick of all of this." She held down a sob that was threatening to break free, "I can't stay here, it'll drive me mad." She buried her head in the crook of his neck. The threatening sob broke through, turning her resolve to tears. But Snape just held her._

_A long time later she was walking from the office, towards the Slytherin common room, and the next day she was gone._

Callista swallowed; that was one of the worst memories, only topped by the day her parents were imprisoned.

_It was A History of Magic. A subject that the young Callista loved when her Dad had taught her, but Binns made even the most exciting of battles seem dull. The room was silent save for the droning voice of the ghost professor, and even that had faded into the back of Callista's mind as she listlessly gazed out of the window. Rain was pouring down outside, pitting the lake's surface as the fat drops hit the large body of water and turned the grounds to mud. Callista had always loved the rain, the fresh smell it left behind was cooling and glorious._

_The 13-year-old's musings were disturbed by a knock at the door. Binns' monologue stopped abruptly, and a few heads lifted blearily off the desks. The door swung open to reveal Professor Snape, looking grimmer than normal – if that was even possible._

"_Professor, I'm afraid I need to excuse Miss Lestrange from your _riveting_ lesson." The man's sarcasm was lost on the ghost as he blinked slowly, not used to interruptions._

_Callista frowned, what could he want? She hadn't done anything bad recently, or at least she thought not… She mentally shook herself out of her thoughts, collected her bag and followed the professor down the corridor, but instead of leading her to the dungeons, she found herself standing opposite a large stone gargoyle – the entrance to the headmaster's office._

"_Sir?" Callista looked up at her head of house questioningly. He just nodded encouragingly and uttered the password, the gargoyle jumped aside at his request, revealing the spiralling staircase._

_As she entered Dumbledore's office, Callista became even more confused at the sight that met her. Dumbledore himself was stood facing the window, but there were three more people pacing agitatedly. Two were wearing the purple robes of Aurors, the other was an important looking woman dressed in fine robes of deep blue._

_Dumbledore turned as he heard her hesitant steps, smiling calmly at the girl, although his eyes didn't hold their normal annoying twinkle._

"_Miss Lestrange. I'd like you to meet the minister for magic, Millicent Bagnold." Callista looked at the Minister apprehensively, eyeing the badly concealed hatred masked on the woman's face._

"_G…good afternoon, ma'am," Callista opted for the polite approach, it couldn't do any harm._

"_I'm afraid the Minister is a barer of some bad news, Miss Lestrange." Dumbledore spoke softly, seating himself behind his large, cluttered desk. A snort from the minister startled Callista._

"_Hardly, Dumbledore, it's some of the best news we've had in a long while." Dumbledore pursed his lips in a very McGonagall-like way at the Minister's words._

"_Be that as it may, Millicent…" Dumbledore inclined his head in her direction before carrying on, "Last night, Callista, the ministry was alerted to a break in at the house of two of their finest Aurors. When a team arrived at the Longbottoms' house they were sadly too late to save the couple. What they did discover however was the Dark Mark floating above the roof top."_

"_Sir, I really don't see…" Callista started, but Dumbledore held up one long fingered hand to stop her._

"_My dear, they also intercepted four known Death Eaters at the scene." Callista blanched, this could mean one thing and one thing only. She clenched her trembling hands behind her back, hoping against hope that one of them was not her father._

_Dumbledore smiled across at her sadly, "Yes," he said softly, "I'm afraid that your mother was one of them. She helped torture Alice and Frank Longbottom into insanity. She is now residing in a top security cell in Azkaban Fortress, along with Barty Crouch Junior, your uncle Rabastan Lestrange…"_

"_Please, not my father." Callista managed to force out, but Dumbledore's expression confirmed it, "no!" she brought her hands up to cover her mouth, which was open wide in shock, tears almost slipping from her eyes, but she wouldn't let them._

"_Miss Lestrange, tell me, did you know of your parents' involvement with You-Know-Who?" Minister Bagnold cut in sharply, frowning at the young girl._

_Even through her shock Callista scoffed, "Of course I did! How could I not, with my mother being the crazy bitch she was? She practically lived to serve the Dark Lord, not even I could take her attention away from _Him_."_

_The rest of the meeting had gone horribly, all Callista wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sob. After that she cut herself off from the world – emotions were weaknesses after all._


	3. Chapter 3

Hey there, I know it's been a little longer than expected but I did have annoyingly important AS exams. Now they're over (woop!) but that also means that I'm back at school (with the teachers piling on the hw due to my stupid head of 6th Form being a complete and utter twat). Anyway, I would like to dedicate this little chappie to the wonderful **LilyEyes777** for sending me a great review for chapter two. It was the prompt for me to post this one (or rather to remind me that I had yet to post it :P). Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Would I be complaining about 6th Form if I owned HP? All is property of the wonderful J.K (and will sadly remain so forever).  
_

* * *

June 1995_

The reactions were mixed to say the least. Encouraging smiles emanated from her fellow professors, Dora and a few others she knew, but on the other hand there were many glares and distrustful glances. Callista sighed, annoyance showing in her features as she glared steadily around the room. The silence was slightly unbearable; Dora shifted uncomfortably in her seat across from her cousin, Remus Lupin – a man whom Callista had come to like in his time teaching defence against the dark arts – coughed unnecessarily, glaring at the man to his right (who was glaring, in turn, at Callista).

"Well," Callista said dryly, "That's probably the best reaction I've ever seen." Her mouth curved into a sarcastic smirk, her eyebrows rising in mirth. Faked mirth covered the little part of her that died every time she got bad reaction to the name. At that moment she was glad that Severus was not in the room, as he would have seen right through her. As it was Dora frowned, soon followed by a familiar red haired Curse-Breaker. He soon spoke.

"Now really, people. If Dumbledore trusts her, why can't you?" Callista grinned at his blunt statement, "Cally may not be a wonderful person or the best role-model…"

Callista snorted, very un-ladylike, before muttering loudly, "Thanks, _William._" Bill just shrugged, trying to suppress his laughter before continuing.

"…but she is loyal to those who trust her. There is no reason for us not to." He opened his mouth to carry on, but was intercepted by the man who had drawn a glare from Lupin.

"We have many reasons not to." Callista rolled her eyes at the dark haired man, who possessed many obvious Black features.

"We meet again, Black. Tell me, how was your stay in Azkaban? Sources tell me that the room service there is excellent." The comment hit its mark and he stiffened, his scowl becoming more pronounced.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_August 1989_

Where only five minutes previously the sky had been a bright azure blue, it was now almost black with cloud. Callista shivered as the cold crept over her, filling her with the kind of dread that only Dementors could bring. The foreboding building before her could barely be distinguished from the darkening sky and Callista had the sudden urge to turn back, she didn't _need_ to be here after all. The ministry had contacted her the previous week to tell her that thanks to new laws she needed her one of her parent's signatures for her to access their Gringott's vault, but Callista had – instead of getting a random ministry official get it for her – insisted upon seeing her father herself.

The wooden boat bumped against the small boardwalk and Callista took a deep breath before stepping out onto it. She cursed to herself as the heavy metal doors opened in front of her, revealing a short, slightly balding man wearing the official robes of the Azkaban staff, wishing that she had accepted Severus' offer of accompaniment. The place would have seemed slightly more bearable had he been with her.

"Name?" The man asked suddenly as he led her down a tall, thin passageway. Callista gave it to him, noticing his sneer as she did so. A Dementor floated silently past them, its cloak sweeping over Callista as if the monster wanted to suck _her_ soul out.

After signing several unnecessary papers Callista was shown to the section of the prison where the high security cells were situated. There were more Dementors here than there had been on the lower levels. Callista just gritted her teeth and bared it, knowing that the sooner she got this done, the sooner she could get out of there. Some of the prisoners cried out as she passed them, but she barely heard them over the screams she tried so desperately to block out, her devil-may-care attitude for once abandoned as the Dementors brought forth her most horrific childhood memories.

A few cells were completely silent, their occupants staring out at her with large eyes in shrunken faces, before one prisoner jumped forward, grasping the bars with long dirty fingers. Callista jumped away in fright, noticing as she did the recognition in the woman's manic eyes.

Bellatrix Lestrange. Her hair was wild around her face, lank and long, her arms – bony and grimy, reached past the bars, her hands grasping Callista's own wrist painfully tight. She said nothing, just staring at her daughter as Callista tried to pry her fingers away. Evidently she was searching for something in Callista's face because she moved from the bars a few moments later, a satisfied smirk adorning her features.

The balding man huffed impatiently and Callista made her legs move forward, but they stopped at the next cell. A man - no different from the others, his hair long and lank, his skin grimy with years without a wash – yet he was so different, he didn't look as… mad. He was eyeing her suspiciously having seen her interaction with her mother.

"I don't have all day Miss _Lestrange_." The guard sneered. _As if he has anything better to do here_ Callista thought, and was about to move before the man rasped something out.

"Sorry?" She asked, turning to him. _I must be mental, he's a _criminal.

"You're _hers._" His eyes flicked sideways, and the ever common sneer at her name appeared.

"So what if I am?" She glared moving on.

Only later, when she was back on dry land, her father's shaky signature in hand, did she realise that he had been Sirius Black – a man who really shouldn't (according to the ministry at any rate) be sneering at _her_ name.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

_June 1995_

The first thing Callista noticed were soft footfalls coming her way. They paused close by before a soft sigh was heard, then a few minutes of silence. She had fallen asleep on the sofa, too worried to even think about heading upstairs. Severus hadn't turned up at the Order meeting, or when she had returned to their home. Her dark mark had been tingling painfully all evening and that had just proved to worry her further – something big must have been happening.

The footfalls resumed, stopping only when they were right next to Callista. The floorboards creaked as the person shifted their weight, before she felt soft breath tickling her cheek and a pair of lips pressed softly to hers. Her eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus onto the form of her husband. She smiled slowly and sleepily; Severus was back, and he was obviously unhurt.


End file.
